


When Angels Hide Their Faces

by lilybeth84



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilybeth84/pseuds/lilybeth84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Meg is killed by Crowley, Castiel goes to Hell to find her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I could not find any lore on the wikis about where Demons go when they die or if they just cease to be, so this is my take on it.

**Prologue**

It was with a quiet curiosity that Castiel stared down at the crumpled form of what had once been the most recent human vessel of the demon, Meg. For a second he could not quite believe it was her, for she looked so tiny against the pavement; he could scarcely remember how such a small thing had held such a large personality. 

As he looked closer he saw the swelling and the blood and he felt his chest tighten. Her arm was bent at a funny angle and her nose was obviously broken.

In silence he bent down and stroked her blonde hair which was washed pink with rain and blood. It was stiff now, but he remembered how soft it had felt between his fingers when he had kissed her in Crowley's lair.

It had been a moment that had surprised him as much as it had her. As she had pressed her lips against his, he felt a pang of desire, and it had been without thinking that he recalled the pizza man and mimicked what he had seen him do to the woman in the porn film.

He was still thinking about her hair when he caught sight of her wrist, the one he had bandaged not twelve hours before, after they had rescued her from Crowley’s torture. Gently he picked it up off the ground and held it in his palm. The bandage was torn, but it had held. He wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the wrist, the two fingers meeting easily in the middle where her pulse should have been. 

As he knelt there, his eyes clouded over and the tightening knot within him finally snapped and broke. He suddenly felt exhausted. Hauling himself to his feet he looked up into the night sky.

“Why must you take away everything I care about?” 

His words fell on deaf ears as he knew they would. 

He didn’t love her—he doubted he was capable of that—but he cared for her as he cared for Dean and Sam. At least he thought he did.

Kneeling down again, he gathered Meg’s battered body into his arms and held it close to his chest. It was then that he knew what he needed to do.

“I’m coming, Meg,” he whispered into her torn ear. “I’ll find you and bring you back.”

The trees above stirred in the windless sky, and then he was gone, leaving one less missing person for the police to find.


	2. Chapter One

Castiel found Sam and Dean driving the Impala somewhere between Nebraska and Kansas. It was with great reluctance that he appeared in their backseat, but finding no other option available, it was what he had chosen to do.

"Hello, Dean," he greeted them in his gruff voice. Sam let out a shout and Dean almost drove off the road, stopping just before barreling into a ditch.

"I thought you were quite used to my appearing suddenly," he said as Dean screeched the car to a halt on the side of the dusty road.

"Not exactly, Cas," Dean snapped as Sam put his head between his knees. "What are you doing here anyways? The last time I saw you, you were beating my face into hamburger."

"I healed you didn't I?" Castiel really did not want to get into a discussion about the Angel Tablet or that he had been brainwashed by Naomi. "I have something to ask of you."

"Does it have something to do with…her?" Sam asked reluctantly, nodding to Meg's body Castiel still held to his chest. As expected, there was guilt written all over his face. Castiel very much intended to take advantage of that guilt.

"I need you to take her body for safekeeping."

"Aw, hell, no!" Dean protested loudly. "If Crowley comes calling, I don't want it on my neck."

"It's the least you can do, Dean." He felt anger simmering deep inside and he gripped Meg so tight, he left half-moon marks on her pale skin. "She held Crowley off while you escaped. You left her there alone, and she got killed for it."

Dean had the grace to look slightly ashamed, but it was soon replaced with sullenness as he turned back to face the steering wheel.

"He's right, Dean." Sam said tentatively. "She told me to save you and the unicorn here, while she fought Crowley."

Castiel was confused. "Unicorn?" he asked Sam. "Who's a unicorn?"

"He's talking about you, assbutt!" Dean snapped.

"What does that mean?" He still didn't understand. "I am clearly not a unicorn."

"Never mind," Sam said in a warning tone before Dean could respond. His face was tomato red and he looked like he was going to rupture a blood vessel at any moment. Sam turned back to Castiel and nodded. "We'll take her. We owe her that much."

"Thank you," Castiel said feeling immensely relieved. He hadn't yet figure out a way to blackmail them into taking charge of her and he was grateful he didn't have to.

Dean looked incredibly unhappy, but he didn't protest. "What are you going to do?" he asked reluctantly.

Castiel cocked his head to the side. "What do you think?"

It took them a moment but they got it. Sam shook his head but said nothing.

"And where is she?" Dean asked, his anger gone in lew of curiosity

Spreading his mouth into a grim smile, Castiel replied, "Where all demons like Meg go when their number is up. Back to Hell."

This was met with silence and Castiel sighed. He thought he had gotten the declaring of Mad Decisions timing down, but apparently he had not.

"I don't understand," Sam said slowly. "If she is in Hell, can't she just escape again?"

"No," Castiel replied patiently. "When a demon is killed by an angel or a demon blade, they are banished to the lowest circle of Hell, from which escape is all but impossible. Even if a soul could manage to climb out through all nine circles they would be so altered that they would have no semblance of self or what it means to be a demon—it essentially becomes a blathering, dangerous entity who knows only hunger. And it cannot be destroyed after that, only contained, unless someone were to take it through Hell to the Final Place."

"The Final Place?" Sam asked curiously. 'What's that?"

"That where all spirits go eventually. I do not know what is there…no one does."

"And what makes you think that Meg is still in Hell? Why do you think she hasn't gone…on?" Dean asked.

Castiel stroked Meg's bloody temple, right at her hairline. It was an almost unconscious move. "No creature that fought as hard as she did would give up so easily. Besides, I have an good idea that Crowley would like to spend eternity torturing her, and I mean to stop it."

Dean was looking at him, a funny expression on his face. "Since when did you care about demons, Cas? And why Meg? Is it because of the pizza man?"

Castiel looked away. "No," Was all he said in answer to that. "Take care of her Dean, or I swear I'll—"

But he was gone, and Sam and Dean were left staring at Meg's broken body, a reminder that good and evil were not as black and white as they had once thought.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have chosen to borrow from both Dante and Supernatural. Because there is so little information out there, much of this is of my own mishmash of universes. Please take it with a grain of salt, or consider it AU.

It hadn't taken much for Castiel to find the fairy that had given him the information he needed. Greedy little things that they were, it had taken nothing but a bowl of cream and a few choice words, and he had been given the location of one of the closest gates from the Ninth Circle of Hell to a location on Earth.

The next task was harder—to find the compass that would take him through Hell and out again.

Since his death in Lucifer's hands, that which was associated with the angel Gabriel had started to disappear. The tales of Loki were becoming muddled and confused and those that had claimed to see the archangel suddenly could not recall ever having said so. This was particularly trying as Gabriel was the last known owner of the compass; Castiel found dead ends at every turn.

There had been a rumor that the compass was in Norway, but he had found nothing there. Then he heard from a jinn, who heard from a leprechaun, that it was hidden away in some remote island off the coast of Washington state where a tribe lived in relative seclusion from the mainland.

This was in fact, where he found it. It was in the safe keeping of a village elder with whom Gabriel had liked to drink and tell stories. When Castiel informed him of Gabriel's demise, he cried in grief and then made Castiel stay for three days to mourn with the tribe for his passing. As payment for his tales and his time, he gave Castiel the compass (he had been using it to strike matches on), and made him promise to come and drink with him when he returned.

It looked like nothing special; a lump of tarnished metal with symbols etched onto it and an arrow that did not move. It wouldn't here on earth, only in Heaven or Hell would the arrows point the way.

Finally he was ready—except for one thing-entering Heaven so that he could enter Hell.

He could not enter the gate in the Fifth Circle because it was an "exit only" portal deliberately set up by the fairies that way so they would always know who and what was leaving.

He did not want to return to Heaven. The shame was too great for him to face the sad remains of his brothers and sisters, and he wasn't quite sure what they would do to him if they found out he was there. He kept a low profile and managed to avoid being detected while he made his way for the gate. Only briefly did he think about revealing himself to an old friend, but quickly quashed that idea. He had one goal and one goal alone.

As he made his way through the streets of the lower levels of Heaven, he wondered where he would find her, this demon who had changed sides as often as many humans changed their hair color.

He honestly hadn't been able to figure her out, which, may have been one of the reasons he found her so irresistibly intriguing. She was unlike any demon he had ever come across.

Before leaving, he had seen the Winchesters, and Sam had come to him and related what she had said about choosing a cause and fighting for it—and then there was that bit about Castiel being a "unicorn." He still did not really understand why she had chosen a unicorn to describe him. A dragon or stallion might have suited him better, seeing as unicorns weren't real, but that she had thought about him in her final moments sent a warmth through him that could not be defined.

"Save your brother and my unicorn," she had said.

She was a puzzle.

In a dark alley near the building that held the moot, he found the gate. It was a small golden door scrawled with Enochian spells of warding and binding. Muttering the words for opening such a gate, he pushed through and was in Hell.

This gate entered out somewhere on the Seventh Circle onto the bank of a boiling river of blood and fire. Even though he had been here before, he was unable to keep the horror from welling up inside him. He unsheathed his sword, and passing by the huge snake-like demon dipping damned souls in and out of the river, slipped out through a hole in the surrounding rock face.

It was with relief that he found himself in a forest—that was until he was attacked by Harpy demons, their teeth dripping with blood. As he cut them down, he realized the trees were actually made of the bodies of bent and broken people. They grabbed at his clothes, their eyes wide with terror. They could not speak, their mouths non-existent.

As he cut down the last Harpy in the flock that had attacked him, he accidently broke off a limb of one of the ghastly trees and it was a cacophony of a million suffering voices that poured out in the vein of one.

"Angel, angel, save us," it whispered, its branches brushing over him in a light caress.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said. "I cannot."

"We know what you seek. The demon…."

Castiel grabbed the tree and squeezed it so hard, the voices wailed.

"Tell me where she is," he ordered with the authority of Heaven infused into his tone. "If you do not—"

"What?" the tree laughed like nails on a chalkboard. "Fool! You have just let them know you are here."

Far off in the distance he could hear the howling of Hellhounds. Sheathing his sword, he brought out the compass and held it before him.

"Such beauty," the tree whispered, trying to take the thing out of his hands. "We want."

Castiel slapped them away and watched as the symbols glowed and the arrow spun. It told him she was below him still—in the Ninth Circle.

"Meg, what have you done?" he whispered to himself.

"Betrayal…" the tree whispered. "Treachery…"

"Who did she betray?"

But the trees only laughed and it was with that horrid sound echoing in his ears that he left the forest behind and made his way into the Eight Circle.

He waded through blood and pain in the time that followed, meeting those that had gone mad from torture, those that carried around their own detached limbs, and still others who replayed again and again their own terrible deaths. The hounds drew closer and closer, haunting his every step.

He was exhausted by the time he reached the Ninth Circle, because here in Hell he was little better than a human on earth. But still he pushed on.

It was an odd place, this part of Hell. Many humans thought that it was all fire and brimstone but here in the Ninth Circle, it was a frozen desert of ice and stillness. He knew that somewhere here was the cage that held both Lucifer and Michael and he shivered at the thought of what Sam had gone through stuck in there with them.

He was about to stop and consult the compass when he came across a man hanging from a bare tree, his naked body covered with ice crystals. As he drew nearer the man opened his eyes and that was when he recognized him.

"Judas Iscariot."

"Castiel…you have fallen." His voice cracked from the ice the encrusted in his throat, wincing in pain at the effort.

"Yes…no… it's complicated."

Judas laughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "I have heard mutterings of an angel searching for the demon known as Meg Masters," he whispered reaching his hand out towards Castiel.

Castiel took an involuntary step backwards and felt something under his heel. He looked down to see a pile of silver coins covered in frost, glinting in the dim light.

"I—I'm sorry," Castiel said suddenly ashamed.

"Don't be," Judas whispered. "It is of my own making."

He reached out again and this time Castiel let him touch his cheek. He gasped in pain as a chill shot through him like a knife. It was one of the most painful things he had ever experienced and when he pulled away he was gasping for breath.

"Is that what it's like?" He rubbed his cheek where the pain still lingered.

"Yes," Judas replied lifting his eyes to the grey sky. "For two thousand years."

Castiel didn't know what to say so he didn't say anything at all. And just for a moment he shared in the silent pain for the man who had condemned himself for the thirty pieces of silver that lay at his feet.

"She—she's with Lucifer."

"In the cage?"

"Yes. Crowley wants her to suffer," he rasped out, coughing up more blood. "She has been placed deep within Lucifer's mind."

"But she was Lucifer's follower," he protested. "Surely he could come up with a worse way to torture her."

"Betrayal."

There was that word again, but Castiel didn't know what he was talking about. She hadn't betrayed anyone—unless—

"I see," he said gruffly.

If he wanted to free Meg he would have to enter Lucifer's cage and then his mind.

"Is she worth it?"

"What?" Castiel peered up at Judas.

"Is she…worth it," he struggled to get out.

Castiel looked at the silver by his feet. "I had thought so," he said slowly. "But I never anticipated having to face Lucifer and Crowley." He picked up a frozen coin and turned it over in his hand, the face of Pontius Pilot winking at him in the cool blue light.

"Yes," he said finally. "She's worth it.


	4. Chapter Three

Lucifer's Cage was at the very edge of the frozen wasteland. For days Castiel ran, the Hellhounds drawing nearer to him with each step. They were numerous and that meant they were dangerous. He would quickly be overwhelmed. Judging from the howling behind him, he had merely minutes to get through it before the hounds were upon him.

Speaking Enochian, he opened the same passage that he had used when he had freed Sam from captivity. Under a great sky, Lucifer, Adam, and Michael were still unconscious to the icy conditions in which they lay, incapacitated. The only thing that indicated they suffered was from their twitching eye lids and the occasional moan. Castiel cast a sorrowful glance at Adam. After what happened with Sam, he knew it was too risky to bring him back. That was a task for another day.

Meg lay on one side of Lucifer, her cheeks pale in the death-like sleep she was in. He lay down on the other side and willed himself to enter Lucifer's mind.

The door was the last remains of what protected Lucifer from going completely mad here. He had been a strong Angel, and he was an even stronger Demon. He had been able to subdue the others and create his own place, a domain in which he controlled everything. It was a dangerous thing to enter, and the possibility that Castiel would be unable to return to his own body was higher than he would have liked.

The door was simpler than he would have expected. There was no handle, but there was an intricate inlay of gold leaf patterns across the surface that reacted by lighting up when he brushed his hand over them.

As Castiel studied the spell, he was also scanning through the library in his mind of the human knowledge that he had acquired over thousands of years, searching for what could break through.

Lucifer had always been arrogant. He assumed that as the most beloved Angel he also was the most intelligent. Castiel would not deny that Lucifer was incredibly clever, but he had never spent enough time with the humans he so despised to learn from them the things that Castiel had.

Lucifer only saw what he chose to see—war, famine, murder—but Castiel saw that they were much more. They were great creators of beauty, and extremely skilled at capturing the great span of human emotions. To Castiel there was nothing so wonderful on earth than that which was created in the name of God. He had learned long ago that even when faith was gone, beauty could still be found—be it the Sistine Chapel or the most rudimentary wooden carving.

Then there were the prayers that strung together words of great power. It was with words he chose to break through Lucifer's spell. Tuning out the ever closer Hellhounds, he closed his eyes, and placed his hand on the center of the door.

"O thou that hearest prayer, unto thee shall all flesh come. Iniquities prevail against me: as for our transgressions, thou shalt purge them away. Blessed is the man whom thou choosest, and causest to approach unto thee, that he may dwell in thy courts: we shall be satisfied with the goodness of thy house, even of thy holy temple."

For a moment he was afraid it had not worked, but there was a creaking noise and the door swung open to reveal a curtain of ivy covering the doorway.

Unsheathing his sword, Castiel parted the long green chains as he slowly crept through.

It was a garden, more beautiful than anything occurring on his father's earth. The colors were extremely saturated, like an old Technicolor film he had seen with sparkling red shoes and a great wizard. The roses scattered everywhere were the color of arterial blood, the grass so green it looked as though a child had taken a crayon to it. He knelt down and ran his fingers through it, and just to be sure it was real, he snapped off a stalk. As the smell of cut grass permeated his nose, the liquid inside it stained his fingers. The one thing the garden lacked was any sign of life: no birds chirped; no insects rustled. There was no breeze. Everything was too still.

And then he saw Meg.

She had been tortured bloody, her wrists bound together with iron above her head, her ankles bound below. He could smell her burning flesh and the stench of hot metal. She hung limply from the chains, her head resting on her chest, bloody hair covering her face.

As he looked closer he could see the raw wounds, and knew she would not ever be rid of the scars they left, not from here. Not from Lucifer's domain. He took a step towards her, his heart beating fast against his ribs.

"Meg," he said softly, his voice sounding harsh against his ears.

She didn't respond, and as he drew closer Castiel could see a great pool of blood. Blood oozed from where Crowley had stabbed her, down her belly to her legs, and to her feet where it mixed with the dust.

"Meg," he said again and reached out to touch her cheek. His fingers were inches from her face when he felt the air shift, like a candle being snuffed out. Instantly he dropped his hand, and gripping his blade stood completely still.

He smelled the acrid scent of death behind him and knew it was Lucifer.

He was in the same body that he had taken before Sam, but it was not whole. The sockets where his eyes would have been burned with an unearthly fire and his mouth was misshapen. It was a grotesque sight.

"She cannot speak, Castiel." Lucifer said. "I cut out her tongue…

With a twist of his hand, Meg's mouth ripped open and blood poured out with a choking wail of agony. One eye was completely swollen shut, but the other widened when she saw him.

He forcefully turned away. "Where is Michel? And, Adam?"

"Oh, around," he said carelessly. "I have a new toy to play with. One that has done me a great wrong" He pushed his face right up to Meg's, burning her with his breath. "Haven't you, Meg."

"She's done nothing to you."

"That's just it," Lucifer spat out. "She's done nothing for me. My once loyal daughter has forsaken me for the Winchesters—and for you.

"Look, Meg" He mocked her gripping her chin in his hand. "Castiel has come to save you."

She tried to pull away but Lucifer's grip was too tight and blood burst from her nose.

"Stop," Castiel replied steadily, gripping his sword tightly. "Let her go."

Lucifer shoved Meg's face away and fixed his burning eyes on him. "I confess I don't understand your desire to save this demon, Castiel. I was not under the impression you cared much for anyone, seeing as how you consistently betray your so-called friends and had no qualms about killing thousands of your brothers and sisters."

Castiel's cheeks burned in shame, but he held his ground. "She does not belong to you."

Lucifer let out a gurgling laugh. "But she does! I created her as she is! She is my daughter, and like all disobedient children, I will continue to punish her for her betrayal until she has learned her lesson."

The stench of his hot breath assaulted Castiel's nostrils and he recognized it as the scent of corrupted angel and wanted to weep.

"And when I finally take my rightful place on the throne of Heaven, the first order of business will be to see your public execution for the shame and destruction you have brought upon the Kingdom of God!"

Before Castiel could react, a whip of burning fire struck him across the cheek sending him staggering back. His cheek burned and his eyes watered. He was ready the second time and deflected the blast. The third time, Lucifer feinted and the flame shot dangerously close to Meg, the heat burning the flesh on her face. Castiel attacked hard and their power met in a clash of corrosive heat and biting fire.

"You know you cannot be together, Castiel," Lucifer mocked him as they circled one another. "A Demon and an Angel? What would Father say?"

"It doesn't matter!" Castiel growled. "That is not why I'm here!"

"Then why are you?" Castiel heard a note of genuine curiosity in his tone. "Why would you die for one so broken…so damned?"

"You do not understand because you do not have friends, Lucifer."

Lucifer scoffed, but Castiel continued,

"She has killed for me, she protected me, took care of me when I could not care for myself. She is my friend."

"How touching," Lucifer said in a toneless voice. "But it was a wasted journey because I will not let her leave."

"You believe yourself invincible, but you are not," Castiel told him. "You forget this is a cage—your cage—and you do not have the power to leave. I, on the other hand, do. And I will leave here, with Meg."

He lunged and Lucifer parried with his power and a spark pinged off the Angel Blade and cut through Castiel's thigh. There was pain but he ignored it, focusing all his energy on his opponent.

He fought with courage and with strength, but he was growing tired. With each hit, his Grace drained a bit more, and soon, it became too much.

He finally fell to his knees, exhausted and bleeding. Lucifer placed his foot in the middle of his back and he went down into the bloody dirt, his sword slipping from his hands.

As Castiel lay there, he felt something warm splash onto his cheek. Slowly he opened his eyes to see Meg above him, tears on her cheeks. Another tear fell onto his face, and then slid down his cheek to his mouth where he tasted salt.

"She weeps for you, Castiel."

Meg pulled against her chains, trying to get free. But it was no use; they held her too tightly.

Lucifer crouched beside Meg and stroked her cheek. "Give up little chickadee," he crooned softly, brushing her hair out of her face. "He cannot save you from your fate"

And Castiel knew Lucifer was right...he couldn't save her. He couldn't save any of them. Sam, Dean, Bobby… He looked back up at Meg's blood streaked face, and his heart twisted as it dawned on him that the last memory he would ever have before being wiped out of existence was that he had failed to protect her.

Lucifer rose before him, eyes gleaming in triumph. He and raised his hands, a white hot ball of flame forming between them.

Just as he was about to give up, Castiel felt a soft touch on his cheek. Meg's fingertips, or what was left of them, were brushing against his skin. She had strained against the hot iron that burned into her flesh, and had managed to find him. Anger burned in her, and he realized that she had not given up, that she still believed they could survive. She nodded at his hand and as he reached out, he realized if he stretched his fingers out a little bit more, he could just reach his blade.

Suddenly he was filled with a burning injustice, hot and powerful. It filled his chest and stuck in his throat. "No," he choked out. "This is not how it ends! I will not be a prisoner in your mind!" And grasping his Angel Blade, he brought it up and thrust it deep into Lucifer's chest, catching him by surprise.

"No!" Lucifer cried. But Castiel was already on his feet and placing one hand on his forehead, the light that was Lucifer's soul began to fracture, the flesh crumbling

Howling in rage, he grasped at Castiel as if trying to hold onto anything that would keep him from his true death.

"No!" he howled. "NO!"

But his struggle was useless. The fire that had burned within was extinguished and Lucifer collapsed against Castiel, his eyes turned towards the brilliant blue sky. After trying to hold onto the body he had created he finally let go, smoke pouring from his eye sockets. Castiel felt his soul vanish, and as it did, the garden too began to disappear and the ice began to form. He knew that if they did not leave soon, they would be imprisoned here forever.

He unbound the chains which held Meg, and catching her under the arms, picked her up into his arms. He ran to the door that was already disintegrating before his eyes. He burst through—

—and opened his eyes to find himself in the cage, Meg beside him. Across the way Michael and Adam stirred, but they did not wake. Pushing down his guilt, Castiel forced himself to get up, and using the last of his energy, he created a protection spell around himself and Meg. Then he went to her and gently touched her swollen cheek, willing her tongue to re-grow. It was all he had the strength for. When he finished, he collapsed to the ground next to her.

She opened her eyes, the swelling gone. "Castiel," she whispered. "You came for me."

"Yes," Castiel replied softly.

"Did you mean what you said?" she asked, not a trace of sarcasm in her voice. "About being friends?"

Castiel did not understand. "Of course."

She just stared at him and he grew uncomfortable under her gaze. "You aren't lying."

"Why would I lie?" She didn't respond so he said, "I'm sorry; I cannot heal you right now. I don't have the strength."

"I have my tongue back. That should be enough for now."

Castiel nodded at the door. "There are Hellhounds waiting outside. We should remain here until I can heal you and we can fight our way out together."

"Will we be safe?" She looked around warily and he understood her fear. Hell had always been just that—hell. There was no kindness here for Demons.

"I have placed a protection spell, just in case," he assured her.

She looked around and the heaved a great, shuddering, sigh. To his great surprise, a tear fell out of the corner of her eye. As he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb, it mixed with the blood on her cheek.

"It's going to be alright, Meg," he said gruffly. "I will keep you safe."

But that only seemed to make it worse because more tears came and then the sobs. So he took her small broken hand in his own and held it as she cried.

When she was done, and the last tear shed, the blue sky over the cage had turned into a deep purple scattered with the twinkling stars and planets of the universe.

"I didn't know you could see this from Hell," he said softly, looking up at the beauty before him.

"A sick reminder of what you cannot have," Meg said thickly. "It is its own torture."

"Yes," Castiel replied, still struck by the magnificence of the vast plane above him. "It must be."

They fell silent and Castiel lay down beside her, his head inches from hers. On earth, angels and demons did not sleep, but here in the silence of Lucifer's Cage, they did just that. It was a sleep bereft of dreams, just a dark nothingness that brought relief from the suffering of being awake.

Hours or days later, they could not tell, because time didn't matter outside of Earth, Castiel healed Meg of her broken bones and his own superficial wounds. The wounds from Crowley's Angel Blade were still raw and bleeding, but ripping the lining from his coat, he bound them as best he could, paying particular attention to the one in her belly.

"I'm going to kill Crowley," he muttered. Meg didn't say anything, but watched him with her dark fathomless eyes.

He finished by binding her wrists, his fingers lightly brushing over her skin.

"I seem to remember we've already been here, Clarence," Meg said with a small smile. "You tending to my wounds, me sitting here…trying to flirt with you."

Castiel didn't smile back. "We must go."

Meg stood up gingerly and pulled on what remained of her tattered leather jacket. "Even if we do manage to get out of here, Cas, I don't have a vessel. Are you going to allow me to find one no matter the cost?" She peered up at him with dark eyes.

Castiel looked away and busied himself unsheathing his sword. "I have your body."

She was quiet a moment. "You went back for it?"

"I rather liked that form," he said gruffly, his heart thudding against his chest.

She reached out and laid her hand on his arm. It was so tiny, and yet so strong and enduring. She leaned up and placed her lips on his cheek in the ghost of a kiss, and then she was off towards the door, Angel Blade in hand. He followed a moment later, and taking one last look at what remained, he opened the door.

The first demon attacked as soon as the door opened, but Castiel easily struck him down. The rest were flanked by Hellhounds, and it took both him and Meg to fend them off.

Breaking though the mob, they ran into the desolate wasteland that lay before them. He could feel her next to him, hear her heart beating loudly and her breath heaving in her chest. They were in Hell but she sounded so alive—so human—

In that moment he decided that he would die for her if it came to that.

"Behind you!" he heard her cry out, and whipping around caught himself face to face with a Hellhound in mid jump. Meg's battle cry resounding in his ears, Castiel flung himself back just before her blade swished up mere inches from his face and cut the head off the hound. Blood spattered him, but he didn't stop to wipe it away. He met the next one with his own blade and it zinged off the hound's collar. The hound growled deep within his throat as it stared Castiel down with eyes that burned red. Meg was once again at his back, her blade pointed at another hound as they circled their foe.

"Is this what it's going to be like?" She asked thickly through blood that poured out of her nose. "Until we get out?"

"I hope not," Castiel muttered over his shoulder.

"How are we to get out of here anyways?" she asked, stabbing a demon through the heart. "How did you get in?"

"Through Heaven. It was the only way I knew how."

"Well shit," Meg said with a trace of her old snark. "It's not like I can go through there."

"I know a way out," Castiel assured her cutting down another hound. "Only out."

"What you do? Threaten a fairy?"

"How did you know?"

"Just a lucky guess," she muttered cutting the last demon down as it hissed at her, its oddly human shaped body disappearing into smoke. "So where are we going?"

Castiel took out the compass that he had received from Gabriel, its golden arrows spinning counter clock-wise until they landed on a symbol that Castiel knew what it meant only on an instinctual level. If Meg had asked him to explain it, he wouldn't be unable to.

"This way," he said pointing off to the left of the icy desert. A cold wind blew from behind them, and Meg sniffed the air.

"There are more demons coming."

Castiel sheathed his sword. "Then we must hurry."

It felt like a millennia by the time they reached the Fifth Circle of Hell where the compass had directed them. Castiel, who had never felt pity for the inhabitants of Hell ever in his life, found himself with nothing but pity—and sorrow. When he looked at Meg, it was with a newfound respect and a sense of awe that she had dragged herself out of this place so many times.

It was in the third month, though only the third day on Earth, that they came across a snowy battlefield littered with the bodies of souls caught in a repetitious battle. It went on for hours, until it reset itself and the men and women died all over again.

"I don't recognize this," Meg mused softly. "And I thought my history was quite good."

"That's because it's from the future," Castiel replied as he watched a girl no more than seventeen get run through with a curved sword weaned by a boy the same age. "This is a battle that hasn't yet happened in the time you see on Earth."

Meg gave him a sharp look. "I never thought that the things I saw down here could be from the future."

"That's because normally you wouldn't see them," Castiel said as he made his way onto the field. "You are with me, and for angels, time does not exist."

She said nothing, but followed him, their feet crunching in the snow. He saw her shiver out of the corner of his eye, but knew if he offered her his coat, she would refuse.

They fought their way across, killing only those who attacked. At one point, Castiel thought he heard the cry of a Hellhound, but when he stopped to listen, all he heard was the screams of the dying.

Finally they reached a bunker, and moving a few bodies out of their way, discovered a trap door in the deepest part of one of the furthest corners.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel leaned down to open it, his hand on the icy cold ring when her voice stopped him.

"Do you know where it leads?"

He looked up in confusion. "Why? Does it matter?"

"No," she replied slowly.

"It's safe," he replied opening the hatch and peering through. "You're just going to have to trust me."

With that, he slipped through—and found himself face to face with Crowley.

"Well, well," Crowley said in a gleeful tone. "If it isn't the Angel and the whore."

"Meg, stay where you are," he ordered keeping his eyes on Crowley.

"Um, not going to happen," she called down. "I got Hellhounds here looking for dinner."

"MEG, STAY WHERE—"

But it was too late. She slipped down beside him, pulling the door with her. When she saw Crowley she turned white as a sheet.

"Hello, Meg," Crowley smiled at her. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Fuck."

He merely laughed and clapped his hands together. "Such language for such a little thing."

"How did you know?"Castiel demanded.

Crowley looked at him like he was stupid. "You're not the only one who can bribe fairies, angel. As you know, it doesn't take much." He turned to Meg and his face turned ugly. "God, Meg, WHY WON'T YOU JUST FUCKING DIE!" His eyes flashed and his words dripped venom that would have burned through flesh. "And you!" He turned to Castiel. "You can't leave well enough alone! Every. Single. Time. I turn around, you're there…just to piss me off. Well, fuck you both." He looked at Meg. "Especially you, you demon cunt."

And then he lunged at Castiel, who didn't react fast enough.

But Meg did. There was a whirl of leather and she stepped in front of him, her own blade aimed at Crowley's neck.

But he was too strong, and he knocked it aside and ran her through the heart with his sword.

Castiel watched in horror as her eyes widened and she turned to him. "I'm sorry," she choked out with a mouthful of blood. Then she crumpled to the ground.

With a roar, Castiel turned around and lunged at Crowley who parried just in time before he stabbed him. But Castiel did not let up. He used all his strength and his grief, and it was too much for Crowley. Finally he got an opening and stabbed Crowley, opening him from navel to neck.

He tried to speak, but blood gushed out of his mouth and he fell, dead.

Castiel dropped his blade and went to Meg's side. He felt the ground tilt beneath him as he gathered her limp form in his arms.

"No," he whispered. "Why did you do it? Why?" But she was already gone, and this time he knew he wasn't getting her back.

Hi face felt wet, but when he looked up at the sky it was not yet raining, and he realized they were tears—he was crying—and he felt a dark, burning rage at God.

"I HATE YOU!" he cried, lifting his face to the cloudy night sky somewhere in Delaware. "You my father and you have forsaken me, again and again. You have forsaken us all! We are your children—and you let us kill and be killed. Do you not care? Do you—do you not love us?" His voice cracked and that was when the rain began to fall. It came in a downpour, soaking him instantly. "Humans call rain the tears of God, but I don't think you've ever cried for anything in your life. You certainly haven't cried for me." His voice was infused with all the bitterness he felt, all the pain and anger, it almost hurt to let it out, it was so buried deep within his heart. "I hate you." He whispered, looking down at Meg's limp form. "I hate you."

Suddenly there was a crack of lightning and the angel Joshua appeared before him.

"Castiel," he said softly, tenderly. "Castiel."

"Joshua?" Castiel asked in disbelief, wiping his face. "Why are you here?"

"Because God has heard you."

Castiel laughed bitterly. "Then why does he not come himself?"

Joshua tilted his head. "I have often asked him that, but he refuses to answer." He gave Castiel a smile and came closer to him. "He is a stubborn being."

"What could he possibly have to say to me now?" Castiel asked sorrowfully. "I said I would die for her, and I failed."

"Oh, Castiel." Joshua's face showed his pity for the angel. "You have felt ignored and alone for so long, and he…regrets that you have lost faith."

"If he regrets my lost faith so much, why has he not proven he is even there to put any in?" Castiel said stonily.

Joshua put his hand on Castiel's shoulder.

"That is why I am here," Joshua said simply and let his hand drift down and placed it on Meg's head. "Unlike any other angel, you have loved all of God's creatures from the bees to humans. Even demons are not beyond your love."

"What are you—?" Castiel started, but his words were cut off when a golden light glowed from within her, pouring through her eyes and her mouth. Suddenly her eyes snapped open as black as tar and she sucked in a deep breath as though it were the first time she'd ever had air in her lungs. As the light faded, her hair turned the palest blonde, almost white, and her eyes fluttered closed.

Castiel looked up at Joshua, his heart in his mouth.

"She's alive," Joshua said, still smiling. "The demon who died twice for another is not something that goes by God without notice. She is still a demon...and something more. As you said, even demons are children of God." He nodded at her hair. "That marks her as His—both Angels and Demons will think twice before they attempt anything. But you need to take care of her. She is more fragile than she will let on."

"I don't understand," Castiel said, his brows knitting together.

"There are some wounds even God cannot heal," Joshua warned. "The scars from the Angel Blade will be with her forever, but it is those deeper—the wounds to her soul and to her heart. They are open and festering, and it will take time and a great deal of kindness and care if they are to heal. Even then, it might not be e—"

But he was cut off before he could finish.

"Castiel?"

Joshua disappeared and Castiel looked down. Meg was staring at him. Her pupils were enlarged like she had been flooded with morphine, a soft ring of hazel around them. They were beautiful.

"Is this Hell?" she asked, a note of fear coloring her voice.

"No. You're back on earth...alive."

He brushed her hair out of her face and he marveled at how warm she felt, and how she clutched his shirt, knuckles white from her grip. He had never noticed how wonderful it felt to be needed. Not even with Sam and Dean.

"I remember." She murmured. "I remember everything." She looked up at him and her eyes turned black. "My name, Castiel…was Alice. My name was Alice."

"Alice," he let the name roll off his tongue. It was a very pretty name but he didn't tell her so.

"Do I look the same?"

"Almost."

"What do you mean?" She sat up and held her hands out in front of her.

"It's your hair," he said reluctantly. "It's turned white."

"No!" She scrambled to her feet and picked up a lock of hair. "You have got to be kidding me," she said in disbelief. "You mean I have to walk around looking like I left the bleach on for too long? This is so not cool."

Castiel got up, unsmiling. "You have been marked by God."

She stared at him. "What?"

"He brought you back, Meg. You don't understand—you are something completely new. You are still a demon—but one sanctioned by God."

"What the fuck," she muttered still staring at her hair. "Does this mean I can't be bad anymore?"

Frustrated, he was about to tell her to be grateful she was alive when his mobile rang loudly.

Fumbling in his pocket, Castiel found his phone. It was Dean.

"Dean?" he answered gruffly.

"Castiel, she's gone." His voice sounded apprehensive. "We came back from a hunt, and Meg—her body is gone."

"Dean, she's here with me," Castiel sighed.

"But how…?"

Castiel looked at the demon before him sniffling loudly over her hair. "I really don't know."


End file.
